Of Mages and Heroes
by RikuRoyalty
Summary: Before Andraste, there were Heroes, but other then the stories passed down from Parent to Child the only documented proof was hidden away by the Chantry. What if Hawke knew a few stories of the Heroes? What if Varric pestered Hawke into sharing a few?


I stared up at the night sky, thinking of nonsense things as I used to do as a child. Nostalgia hit me as I thought of the times that father had taken me camping. Bethany and Carver used to fall asleep early, leaving my father to tell me stories that I had heard a thousand times over. We used to look at the stars to find patterns that would match with whatever random story we made up together.

I rolled over in my bedroll, hoping that the new position would distract me from those distant memories. Father's death, then Bethany's. It was too much for me to think about right now. I couldn't shake the memories so I decided to concentrate on a different part of them. The stories that father used to tell me when I was too tired or frustrated to make any up.

I remember my father's tongue as it moves fluently through the stories as his father had told him the same ones before me. I sat myself up from my bedroll, rethinking through the exciting stories of sacrifice, love and betrayal. "Can't sleep, Hawke?" I looked over at the bedroll across from the fire-pit to see Varric polishing Bianca.

My lip twitched up at my dwarven friend. My natural sarcasm came into play at this point, "Well, sleeping in a camp full of men does that to you." I watched Varric's eyes light up as he put aside Bianca to stare me down for whatever information I was holding back.

"Oh, come on Hawke. You're a beautiful woman, but even we know better than to touch you in your sleep." His face broke into a grin that made me wonder if I unknowingly baited him. "I'm sensing a story going along with your insomnia." Oh yeah, I baited him.

I sighed and pointed two fingers at the warm coals. Letting the magic flames lick my fingers, I released a small fireball that planted itself under the half-burnt logs before it erupted into an embracing fire. Fenris, who was on watch, twitched at my use of magic, but said nothing about it. Anders, who had also been awake but pretending to be asleep, turned at the sudden blast of heat. I watched as he tensed for a moment before relaxing, realizing that it was only my own magic and not an enemy's.

I rubbed my hands together and reached for my pack to take out a few sausages that I had bought for this trip the day before. "Well, since everyone is awake I might as well make this 'story-time'." I learned a long time ago that avoiding telling Varric a story was a horrible idea because it usually lead to a grumpy Dwarf. Grumpy Dwarfs tended to cheat you out of your money with a game of Wicked Grace.

I grabbed the twigs I had stored from the night before and tossed one to Anders, Fenris and then Varric. I then grabbed a small sausage before passing the rest around our little circle. I stuck my sausage to my stick before hovering it over the fire, waiting for it to cook evenly. "I was going to save these for tomorrow night, after we defeated the Flint Company, but it seems like tonight is a good night, considering we all can't sleep."

The three men copied my movements, sticking their sausages to their own sticks and hovering them above the fire. "Let's see, Varric you wanted to hear a story right?"

Varric turned his stick over the fire before answering, "Now Hawke, if I didn't get all the juicy details there wouldn't be much of a story." I snorted and turned my own sausage. Now Varric was just bullshitting me. He knew how to weave a story out of two words much less the 'juicy details'.

"Yes, because apparently your stories are always created from the details of another person."said Anders. At least I wasn't the only one thinking it. I glanced at Anders who seemed a bit irritated. Not surprising, even I found it difficult to sleep on the Wounded Coast.

"This isn't a story about me; it's a story that my father told me and the twins a lot when I was a little girl." Fenris looked at me from the veil of white bangs that usually covered his eyes while Anders continued to stare at the fire. I took my sausage out of the fire to examine it, not cooked enough. "You've heard of the stories about the Old Heroes, right?"

Varric's eyes became distant at the mention of Heroes. "Hm, yes a little but there isn't that much literature on them, other then what the Chantry keeps on lock and key. A lock and key that I do not want to try picking." I nodded. Yes, there were some mentions of Heroes in the Chant of Light, but they were edited out. The only line that people are familiar with is 'The Heroes shall rise again to save us,' some historians even argue that the line was never written by Andraste, as Heroes were widely known to alter fate. Fate seemed extremely important to the Chantry, which was probably why they wrote it out.

I set my half-cooked sausage back into the fire and sighed at its slow process in cooking. "My father told me that Heroes were widely known to possess skills, strength and magic far beyond our understanding. It was also said that they were difficult to kill, as in they could heal themselves without drinking a potion or casting a spell." I leaned back to look up at the stars to look for the Hero of Oakvale, The Sparrow that became King, and The Rebel Princess.

I looked back at my friends, seeing that I had their full attention. Varric's eyes were glistening with anticipation while Fenris frowned at my words. Anders had an eyebrow raised at my knowledge of Heroes. "I know three stories, but I'll tell you my father's favorite one." I sighed and closed my eyes as I waited for the story to set itself on my tongue. "The Sparrow that became King, was what my father called him. The story begins with a little boy named Sparrow who lived on the streets of Oldtown with his sister Rose. Every night, the two children would look up at the Fairfax Castle, dreaming of what it would be like to live in it."

I pulled out my fully-cooked sausage and took a bite before continuing, "One day, a merchant came to town with items that he claimed to be magic. One item caught Rose's eye, a simple music box that was said to grant one wish to it's user." I took another bite of my sausage, "At first she didn't believe in its magic, you see magic was scarce in the country of Albion, so much that it was considered a myth. Rose still admired the music box, though she would never admit it. The box cost five sovereigns, a lot of money for two orphaned children. Rose always looked after her younger brother in anyway she could, so it was not an option for her to spend that much money. Money that could feed those two children for a week. In fact, if it wasn't for the coaxing of a blind old woman she never would have even thought of buying it."

"Sparrow helped her collect those five sovereigns by doing odd jobs around the city. They even saved a dog from getting abused by the local gangs of starving children." I finished my sausage, plucking it off its perch and then putting my stick down beside me. "They bought the music box and twisted the handle, making a wish to live in a castle much like Fairfax. The music box glowed, rising into the air, only to disappear into the sky." I sighed, imagining the disappointed look on the children's faces, "Frustrated the two children went to bed, with their dog companion to warm them up from the cold winter night."

"In the middle of the night the children woke to barking to find a group of soldiers from the castle outside their little shack. Lord Lucien Fairfax had summoned them to the castle on the basis of the fact that they had bought the music box. When they were brought to the Lord, he told his servants to leave to room while he interrogated the children. Apparently, only certain individuals could use that music box and the fact that they could use it was nothing short of a miracle. The children were asked to stand in a circle in the Lord's study, which glowed blue when they stepped onto it. Although when Lord Fairfax friend to reach out to it the glow suddenly turned red."

I threw my stick into the fire, knowing I wouldn't be hungry after I told the next part, "Lucien started mumbling like a madman about 'The Fourth' and how they weren't any of 'The Three'. As he searched through his papers the man suddenly reached for a pistol, a common weapon at the time, although they are very rare now." The other three nodded, they knew what a pistol was.

"Anyway, he took his pistol and aimed it at Rose. 'No! Please!' Rose screamed desperately, taking a step in front of Sparrow. With one shot to the heart, Rose fell over, dead." I swallowed, now engrossed in my own story. "Sparrow was in shock and could do little but back toward the window from the tower that they were trapped in. 'I can't allow you to live either,' said Lucien in barely a whisper, 'I'm sorry,'. The force of the shot threw the poor boy out the window, he fell down the tower, hitting a roof before landing face-first on the stone street."

I looked up at the stars, the outline of the Blind Seer and Sparrow now becoming clearer, "'Death is not your destiny today, little Sparrow,' said the blind woman that convinced Rose to buy the music box. The old woman took the small broken body that was barely breathing and nursed Sparrow back to health. The dog, ever faithful to Sparrow, stayed by his side until he opened his eyes."

"Years passed by, allowing the young boy's grief turn into strength and eventually he had to leave the safety of the Gypsy Camp that he was taking refuge in. He trained hard and made a name for himself doing good deeds and earning money honestly from smithing. The blind woman helped Sparrow through his quests into finding the three Heroes. First the Hero of Strength, second the Hero of Will and third the Hero of Skill. He traveled to many lands, falling in love and marrying a woman along the way, until he eventually he found these three heroes and gathered them together to summon the ultimate weapon to defeat Lucien. Meanwhile, Lucien was building a tower called the Spire in the middle of the bay. At one point, Sparrow was trapped within this tower for ten years in order to rescue the Hero of Will. Just as the Heroes used their combined power to bring the weapon forth, Lucien intervened, kidnapping the three Heroes and shooting Sparrow once more, but not before killing his faithful dog and telling him of the murder of his wife who was with child."

"You would think that being shot a second time would have killed him but all it did was activate an illusion from the ritual that was meant to test him. No one knows what happened, but it is said that the Fade had showed him his hearts desire to which the only way to pass the test was the leave the illusion."

I looked back to my group of friend who were now all openly staring at me in curiosity. Did I used to look like that every time I heard this story? "Sparrow was then granted with the music box from twenty years ago that had started this whole thing. He was transported to the Spire by the use of ancient magic only to see Lucien absorbing the powers of the three Heroes. He used the music box to interrupt Lucien before killing him with a shot of his own pistol."

I sighed and wiped a hand over my head to flip my hair out of my eyes, "Although he was able to save the three heroes, the Spire had awakened and could grant one wish to Sparrow, as a reward. He had three choices. The first choice was Love. This choice would allow all those Sparrow had once loved be returned to life. His wife, unborn child, sister, even his faithful dog. Another was Sacrifice, where all the people who had died in the making of the Spire would be returned to life, but he would never see his loved ones again. The third was Money, where he could be granted riches beyond his imagination but everyone who died would stay dead." I paused for dramatic effect, letting my friends think about my story so far.

"With a heavy heart, and an apology in the form of a prayer, Sparrow chose Sacrifice. He was loved throughout Albion for what he had done, and was even granted the honor of becoming King. That was what people called him from that day forth. Eventually, he moved on from his life and learn to love again. He married a woman, a commoner, and had two beautiful children with her. He was happy, but he was never called Sparrow again."

I watched as Varric's eyes were swimming with this information. It was a long story, and my rambling had raised the sun up from the mountain peaks again. "Well, you got your story Varric, let's go find some Mercenaries to kill." I grabbed my staff and started rolling up my bedroll. To my surprise no one said a word to each other as we left the campsite. I smiled sadly, remembering that I acted the exact same way every time I had heard the story from my father. I remember that I used to debate with myself whether or not I would have chose Sacrifice over Love. Money was always out of my options list, because, to me, it was something that could always be earned.

The rest of the Flint Company on the Wounded Coast was easy to find. We defeated them in silent combat, save for our battle cries and hits of the sword. After we searched the bodies, I led us back to Kirkwall to tell Prince Sebastian of our completion of the mission.


End file.
